The Inventor's Journal finale
by Lady Josephina
Summary: Alas, our story must come to an end. These were the last entries found in Professor Brightman's diary.


_(I would like to offer my sincerest thanks to all those who read and reviewed my story. Your kind words were most encouraging. And yes, I will create chapters rather than seperate stories for future works.)_

September 10th, 1969

1:49 pm

It was back to Gray's Anatomy for me. Every part of the human hand had to be studied and memorized. My mind was swirling with bones, ligaments and tendons. True it gave me a headache, but it was a necessary evil. Edward's new hands need to be perfect. One mistake and he would be crippled.

"What are you doing, father?"

"Don't look. Its a surprise."

But my boy would not be so easily deterred.

"What kind of a surprise?"

"A surprise for me to know and for you to wonder about."

Edward followed me around for the rest of the day. He could be very persistent when he wanted to.

"Can I have my surprise now?"

"No. It's for Christmas" I said.

"Oh... What's Christmas?"

How can I keep leaving out such important lessons! I'm a horrible creator.

"Christmas is a holiday. A day of enjoyment. People give each other presents to show they are loved."

Edward sat in deep thought for a moment.

"Will my surprise be a present?"

"Maybe. Maybe not."

I couldn't help teasing him a little. My own father would harangue me relentlessly about Christmas gifts. A classic case of an apple not falling far from the tree.

"So I'm not going to get presents for Christmas?"

"No, Edward. Ofcourse you'll get presents."

"But you said I might not" Edward said with a hurt look in his eyes.

My game had backfired.

"I'm sorry, Edward. I was just teasing you."

"...Tea-sing?..."

"I'll explain later. I'm a little tired right now."

September 12th, 1969

10:45 am

I haven't been feeling well as of late. My limbs feel as if something is weighing them down. I haven't had the strength to move much. But Edward kept me company. One morning he even brought me breakfast in bed. Though I'm sure many gourmands would laugh at the idea of a tray of cookies as "breakfast".

"This is wonderful, Edward. How did you do it?"

A bright smile lit up my boy's face.

"I put the cookies on the tray one at a time, then picked it up by the handles" he said.

I sighed inwardly. Edward handling the china would have been a disaster. As I take I bite, I watch my boy fumbling with a cookie. He can pick it up with both hands, but it always falls right before it reaches his mouth.

"You need help?" I ask.

As always, Edward allows me to feed him. I watch him chew his food with moist eyes. He has come so far. It's hard to imagine that at one point, he was just a dream. An old cutterbot collecting cobwebs.

Soon he will be completely human.

September 15th, 1969 

4:29 pm

I beseeched Edward to go out to the garden. He had been cooped up in the house to long. My boy needed his exercise.

"Will you be okay?"

"Oh yes. I'll be fine. You go out and have fun."

Reluctantly he left my bedside.

"I can hear you if you call."

"I know you can" I said. "But I need to rest so my body can repair itself"

That's was good enough for him. Off he went.

Some time later...

I must have fallen asleep. It was dusk by the time I faded back into wakefulness. My thoughts instantly turned to Edward. He must be exhausted by now. Forcing myself from bed, I went to the window. What I saw brought tears to my eyes. Like all the topiaries he made, the once gnarled hedge was now a thing of beauty. But this was different. A great leafy hand grew from the earth surrounded by worshipping marigolds. Perfection rendered by the unfinished.

_Don't worry, Edward. You'll have your gift soon enough._

I found my boy curled up under the willow tree. I couldn't blame him. Such a project was bound to be tiresome.

"Are you feeling better, father?"

"Yes. Much better, as a matter of fact."

October 3rd, 1969 

5:17 pm

Its getting harder and harder to write things down. By this time, I'm so tired I can bearly keep my head up. Most of my day is spent on Edward and his new hands. One would think I'd be half mad with cabin fever. But I've seen enough of the world. In my present state, my home and my boy are all I need.

The hands are almost finished. Every screw, wire and spring crafted to perfection. To see how the extremities will look when finished, I create a cast of them in wax. They are simply splendid. The great Madame Tussaud couldn't have done a better job.

October 10th, 1969

Now I know how every parent feels when they have a gift for their children. I don't think I can wait until the holidays to give Edward his hands. He has become everything I hoped he would be. My boy is kind, gentle, intelligent and most of all, an artist. He has learned to use his blades with care and is now ready for the real thing. Trying to quell my excitement, I wrap his gift in holiday paper. I know its a little early for Christmas, but its a present he must receive.

My dear boy. I don't care if you were made by hand and not by God. You are my son and I love you.


End file.
